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james nordlund Aug 2018
As they broke their bread for Lent, TrumputiN's team, hellbent,
Contrived a way to derive from the ripping apart of 3000 Latino
Families, an unending flow of your tax dolla's to predominently
Republican manned anti-immigration agencies, it should make you
Wanna holla, they called it 'zero tolerance', just to throw
All off the scent, and muddy the term's use hence, the white
Supremacy for the Black, in ebony and ivory's working together
In perfect harmony, to do away with 'zero tolerance' in schools,
To increase the amount of crime delinquent kids get done before
They're justifiably kicked out, same old, same old, tragically.

RumputiN got donations from one private prison corp, that got
A 200 million $ contract to house the kids, the involved Fed
Agencies then discriminated against families with kids by
Targeting them for family ripping on our South Western border.
These kids were caged, continually shuttled around at early
Morning hours so they'd be noticed less, were given no way
To contact relatives, their parents almost no way to contact
Them, the 'tender age' kids, 8 months old and up, not given
Humane necessary professsional care, etc., which will dictate
Lifelong traumatic effects, and deep psychological problems.

The courts continually order deadlines by which "these families
Must be reunited", but the altright universe invaders working
For trumpler continually miss them, and project genocidal lies
Like, "hundreds of these kids are ineligible to be reunited
With their parents", most parents having been deported already,
Even though a large % were legally asking for asylum at our
Border, this is genocidal and illegal internationally, there
Are no "ineligible" to be together innocent kids and parents,
When will prumptutin's genocide of Latinos, escalation of the
Oligarchy's class war against lower-middle-class to poor, end?

The gov't criminally dictated that "if they want to see their
Kids again they have to sign away their rights and leave", etc.,
Atrocities against these poor souls and groups like the ACLU,
While doing their best to remedy the abuses against them, our
Compadres, they, while not funded by the gov't, are mocked by
RumputiN, and he projects that "they should reunite families",
Instead of the gov't agencies who ripped them apart.  At least
The judges are deligently expressing the entirety of the fault
For these atrocities lies with the **** crime family's flocks
Of felons, and they must rectify it now, when will they?!?!?
When will the prosecutions of them use the REICO Statute,
And thereby, stop being elaborate cover-ups, giving out immunity

To dozens of organized criminals, while only incarcerating
A few.  Who is dense enough to not see through the smoke, mirrors,
Song, dance of the show that must go on's politic theatre macabre
Of the global oligarchy's cover up of itself?  Who is not knowing
That Mueller, who was part of the elite of the repub conspiracy
That purposely didn't prevent attacks on 9-11-01, during king
George and his ****, cheney's reign on the American way of life,
Is part of the intelligence industrial complex's 2016 invisible
Coup during, and hacking of, the presidential election, resulting
In RumputiN's installation in the Blackhouse ('cause once you go
Black you never go back), as well as the continual cover-up?  

Who, that comey, alone, could have been responsible for non-repubs
Loss of the Presidency, and now the supremacy court, especially if
The dems don't stop a kavanaugh vote before the midterms that are
Near?  Who ..., that most of the supposed "school shootings", acts
Of terror, targeting future non-repub leaders, are engineered, timed
And executed by the crimnal repub conspiracy that must be prosecuted
Using the REICO Statute also, who ..., that ebony and ivory, the
Black and white supremacies, working together in perfect harmony,
As are all 21 flavors of our baskin + robbins of supremacies, are
Struggling to mass-****** a million Americans, liquidating the ases
And assets of the masses, and calling it legislation, like ****** did
Before his "final solution", who, that the American daymare must end?
When's Mueller going to be done with his elaborate cover-up (he's purposely not using the REICO Statute that should be, and is necessary), he's giving immunity to a dozen republican criminal conspiracy felons while only prosecuting, convicting, pleading out a few, before or after RumputiN's visible coup steals the midterms?  If you didn't vote for Hillary, you voted for RumputiN.  "...We(e),..." must protect the vote, vote early, GOTV, and protect the results more than ever, before the country gets used to being drunk on democracy's backslider's wine.  Also: All threads in the fabric of life are needed; "..we(e),...", can't allow it to be torn asunder.  Mothers are that which society builds on, their needs are all of ours; and necessary to meet.  "...Suffer the children...", from the Bible, didn't mean cause the kids suffering; when will remocrats, and even some dempublicans (dinos and DinoS), stop doing most everything asbackwards?   reality
Chris Chronister Dec 2013
Apathetically
Beautifully Callous
Distant
Elegy Frees Gradual Hesitation
Insecurity Justifiably Killing Love
Momentum Nullifying Optimistic Peacefulness
Quietly Relinquishing Shared Togetherness
Unhappiness Virtually Wills
Xeroxing Yourself Zymotically

© Christopher Chronister. All rights reserved
Written as part of a poetry challenge while part of a poetry group on Facebook.  The challenge was to use 26 words following the alphabet from A-Z.  I tried to express some emotions that I went through after my separation.
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2014
<> for the love of friends<>


How does one write
of one he knew not?

the ancillary evidence
mounts relentlessly,
the double toil and trouble moments
edged now, slow vanquished by
steady accumulation
of the evidentiary

a man who lived his life well,
will be inevitably,
nay, justifiably, deservedly
be well remembered...

one examines the evidence with
eyepiece lenses calibrated
to one's own soul,
for this is the natural condition
of humanity

yet wonder,
what manner, what scale,
does one rightly employ
to judge another's  
plantings in the soil?

rightly judge another?

then you hear
a woman say,
she knew not knew
this man Eryc,
revealing an honest tertiary,
even cursory knowledge
of an anecdotal life well lived

our shared quandary,
yet she solves
this judicial issue
by asking of herself
a question
so stunningly elementary,
which both
asks and answers
the double risk
you have imposed,
to write of one you can never behold,
and in doing so,
judge thyself...

What Would Eryc Do?*

this crystal rapid current question
erodes doubt, the fear to tread
where one knows not
when a stranger says to another,
indeed to many others:

heard tell of this young man,
and know now to ask myself
when I too am junctured, in doubt,
What Would Eryc Do?

there is no doubt, no juncture,
just a provident question
a makers's mark
of and upon a man,
whose future shortened,
will live far, far longer than most,
if one simple applies
a standard to one's own life of

What Would Eryc Do?
Heard a woman who knew of this man,
from family and his character.

And began to ask herself in troubling situations,
What Would Eryc Do?




for my dear friend
Mateuš Conrad May 2021
a minor amnesia - nonetheless it happens,
there's another word for it...
skleroza: spontaneous forgetfulness...
this fickle creature that's memory...
thankfully i have a stash of about 5 major memories
that i like to revisit...
play them over and over in my head...
since... i'm not on the crux of death...
well... since i'm not...
i have become more prone to exercise
the freedom of memory than i might want
to watch a movie...
trouble comes when i'm not my own d.j.,
in a car... heading toward... ******* IKEA...
in Enfield... where the phlegmatic crew of
dodo are this close | | to learning the arithmetic
of time...
a song on the radio... Belinda Carlisle...
circle in the sand...
in between talking with my father...
                  nothing metaphorical about that...
- so you know how old bob marley was
when he died? 36...
- you think he would still be touring?
well... he wouldn't need the money...
**** jagger does it for the joy...
          
i can't write narratives...
it's not like we're estranged...
but... it's complicated...
i think this is one area of my life i will keep
off-limits when writing...
i can be as honest about ******
as i can be about horses...
the narrative never took place...
believe me...
we talked about a range of things...
morgage

then when we came home an hour
later than expected...
she (dearest mother)
was probably drinking alone...
throwing little tantrums of me and father
alone time...
well... not to mention he was absent
from the most crucial years of my life...
from 4 till 8...
how does the ugly side of immigration
look like? brain-drain...
we: the diaspora members...
away from the motherland...
for the "better life"...
i too am playing catch-up...
how did ol' Leo frame it?
every happy family is the same...
but every sad family is sad uniquely:
in it's own unique way...

   get Wittgenstein to sort this
tautology... i'm not going to bother...
come to think of it... it's not even
a tautology... a tautology would be more
focused on thesaurus rex...

we had a conversation about football
and music... re-mortgaging...
even Bowie remained true to music...
he probably didn't tour...
but still made new content...
singing about mortality and ****...
i think i'm having this playback moment
in my head...

but then this song came on the radio...
magic fm... belinda carlisle...
circle in the sand...
all of a sudden i had this urge to listen
to a song, that song reminded me off...
oh hell... exactly: what was it?
the search began with: 'the message'...
mc-****-fartery...
      round and round...
jokes aside... i had to listen to belinda's
song on earphones once more
before the "revelation"...

  it seems obvious... "now"...

nik ******* kershaw - the riddle...

exactly... how did i get "the message" wrong?
two strong arms... blessings of Babylon...
blah blah: toe-tying-riddle...
almost like good luck is expected...

come to "think" of it...
a revelation... even though there's that monotheistic
focus on the patriarch...
puppet... strings...
missing *******...
i'm having a hard time not thinking
that ha-shem... the nameless father of hey-zeus
and the ha-ha-mighty blah-lah-al
are not... primarily... feminine gods...
well... conjured up from a ****
rather than a working 'ed...

they're irrational... and can be reduced down
to... the three heads of Cerberus...
they are never really depicted...
worded sleuth pulp fiction harlequin traps...
most artists?
oh **** me... even the ****'ites would agree...
get your eyes to focus on something...
that's how much i dare to admire Islam...
from the ****'ite perspective...

what ******* topic is this?
i was about to pour myself another drink
and this thought like a blitzkrieg came
flushed from a ******* in the universe
where all the gods and nothings
congregate from indigestion and
constipation...
a ******* miracle: a diarrhoea moment...
of sorts...
the monotheistic veneer... of "patriarchy"...

what?! she wants a ring of gold
and my ******* too?
how about a tent's worth of a kippah
on my ******* tonsure?
a man would require a screwdriver...
a hammer... nails... screws...
it would make sense to have many
involved... than this pressure of solipsism...
vampire... succubus... leech...
a ****** hail mary...

**** speak...
                    so great... the technological advances...
atheistic secularism...
but there's a ******* grid-lock to mind too...
no a ****** dam...
a rich cognitive custard...
it's just that: a cognitive custard...
like Moses rekindling a belonging concept
along the lines of being lied to:

monotheism hardly serves man...
i can find appeals to the illusion it presents...
but... hardly...
looks like the "plenty of fish in the sea"
metaphor is drying up the concept
of a "catch"...

the conversation with my father are
off-limits in my purpose of writing in the first
place... unlike a Knausgaard...
i'm the drinker... he's the teetotaller...
he's the workhorse i'm the... chicken-scratcher:
if i had ink...
but i'm also probably ten beaks pecking
resounding at this... grand... oh my god...
******* piano of QWERTY...

genius idea... what?
qwerty... because the orthodox memory erosion
of the alphabet is of any use?
suddenly everything has to **** me off...
it has to be dipped in still water...
it has to be believable...
monotheism is concretely a religion
designated for the preservation of women...
why my *******?
oh... because if you don't have it...
i can... ******* at a leisurely pace?

that a woman can ******* without inhibitions...
while i have to be shamed?
*******, *******...
i don't even have enough slander to express
what my heart reacts to these days...
i don't have "hurt" feels...
i have... agitated feelings...
thank you for waking me up from my numb...
apathy...
but what do i hear? "hurt feels"...
****'s sake... those people don't even recognise
what feeling is supposed to feel like!
they're all french footballers... "hurt" all of a sudden...
wow! so...
"hurt" is translated into the parameters of:
feeling per se?
imagine my shock finding out that
apathy has dulled "i.q." to so little that...
you must be hurt to feel...
you can't be spontaneously agitated...
you must be hurt...

bring out the hot horseshoes...
let's have some fun branding these *******-waggling-
***** aside...

just wait for the breeders to wake up
to having children that turn into freely-arranged
agents of will...
i'm passing through a decade where there's
boasting...
but sooner rather than later...
there will be some hidden mention
of those... pickled-cabbage:
why do the 'indus find pickled cabbage
"funny"?
not eating beef sounds pretty funny...
or like that "proverb" from Morocco:
there's no water, in the desert...
then... what... the... ****... are... you...
"doing" in this, here... land of replenished
roots?!

******* camel jockeys...
what do "they" call them, proper?
sand-*******...
it would take a Bengladesi to get
smart notes on the caste "system"....
Aryan has no origin in Europe...
it probably originated in Indian when
they first came across Persians...
who are... oddly... "pale"...
but have not bartablondine aspects
of their ****** expressions...

ivory skinned like an Iranian or a ***-
without a suntan?
"you" wanted trenches...
here's my designated plot...
"you" wanted ******* to overshadow
real.. culprit-esque concerns...
the jealousy of a woman
knows not bounds...
most especially when a father-son
privacy is engaged with...

   if i ever encountered male jealousy...
it was always rare...
almost never...
         but female jealousy? anything...
everything to belittle the opposing "authority"...
ha-shem... the jealous deity of women...
blah-lah-al of...kept secrets stashed in the niqab...
allure of the ******* eyes...
come on...

****** ******* mary:
that matriarch of sold foetuses and
walking abortions...
at least there was something adventerous
in conceiving the existence of Loki...
of Thor...
there's nothing... original about the point
of monotheistic gods...
that there are three...
is Islam the truest of religions?!
they had a Sunni ****'ite schism... didn't they?
once again:
i want to believe in something:
to give me momentum...
give be a willing acceptance to excuse...
an overarching stressor of incredulity...
and a... "what life"?

well... existence is...
out of every instance: a persistence to:
instance... a persistence...
that's... existence... ex-
out of...
and stance...
dis-ease... a negation of ease...

there will be plenty more of those car
journey listening to magic fm...

an "original": whether mind, or thinker...
that mythology of evil that the Nazis provided...
******* Armani suits and boots...
or whoever designed them... Hugo Boss...
what are we left with,
to mind matters of collectivism?
the evil of censorship instigated by...
halfwits and ******* haemophiliacs?

a myth of evil that could be...
galvanised... momentum and emblem...
what's on offer... currently?
grey-suits and...
expectations: that it's the "21st century"
something magical is about to happen...
what's the difference between the 20th century
and the 18th century?
the 19th century...
so what's the difference between
a pebble, a cliff edge and a mountain?
don't know... a river? a lake?

that same **** different cover excuse
like some wonderful was going to happen
in the 21st century...
like there was a promise...
where is this **** coming from?!
oh yeah... but it's the 21st century...
i was hoping for gravity to ******* and turn all:
short-circuit awry...

i can pretend... for a while...
but after that while passes... i turn into a real mystery
of a door **** gone berserker...
are there these societal expectations
to simply **** **** the next...
blow the next... ******* origami of OXFAM
purple-fest whimpering "dead-doughnut":
although i'd cry... if it was a stray dog
from the streets of Seville...
******* camel-jockeys...

  it's not even a inhibited play on pronouns:
there's no: "they"...
i thought the trans-lobbyist covered the plug-hole
of cognitive-****...
there is not "us" or "them":
gender neutral is me...
armed with a strap-on ***** on my ******* forehead...
a bit like... that hebrew practice of...

so i had me a "friend: a fwend...
maybe that's cornish for something in velsh...
you know how word salad sounds?
on a persistence?
sure... a son of divorce...
what am i? his ******* uncle?
his mother undermined the concept
of al dente spaghetti...
we're talking fractions of people...

people eat ****... leave the universal utility
of pork aside...
mind you: not water in the desert...
and not piggy too...
the leather shoe... the belt...
it's not exactly kosher... is it?
i have this backlog of a peoples...
at least a priest only attracts confessions...
i'm not at knife point
easy... for this triad to work?

if my fwend mentioned cognitive custard...
but the concensus of word salad
is socially broke on the norm...
so blah blah boo'yah assortment...
enriched strawberries...
juicing much later...
i can understand cognitive custard... pie...
but a word salad?
that's.... what doesn't deviate from
solipsism... this solo "project"
of "you and i"...

                       psychiatry is persisting to be
deemed a branch of
the Hippocratic oath....
but it's not...it's pseudo-"medicinal"...
it's hyped-up... idon't remember
that junction in a life...
hardly worth lived... just lived...
of my 20s... what mea culpa stressor of
those psychopaths?
currents under the broken wheel of...
attempts at supressing..
momentum? this whole ******* "flake"
of barrage?

by word salad you're implying i
have, speak... low i.q....
    non-hieroglyphic suede...
non-answerable... past replica...
woe wow salad...
but how i understand it...
a cognitive custard...
well... thinking is messy:
you ******* dim-wits!
        ought-i: thought...
i don't like being ridiculed...
or expected to her a less i.q. than what's...
nuanced at a ****** favouritism... Balkan-esque...
seriously... *******: before i ****** someone...
ugh attached to that: wind... now there's a purpose...

yeah... so what's what?
this is the least of my "concern"?
well... as they say in the west...
as long as the brain-drain happens...
we can forget about keeping the native 9 to 5ams...
sort of... but hardly... justifiably...
less than expectedly...
capitalistically boast: not exhausted...
sort of...

i can understand cognitive custard...
meddle some more...
word salad?
your ******* ****- nig-
of sorts is speaking your language better than me?
******* sour crass of a native's ***!
*******...  and you deserve it.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
i woke up today and couldn't fathom current
affairs in any other way...
             the rebirth of israel...
                      hawk pantos that's america (*** note,
hannibal would apply the death penalty
if i was playing the trombone, or something
akin to it... tearing my hearing to shreds and
subsequently infuriating me)...
            but my tongue is a very debasing
instrument to come to grips with...
                      it's the internet and the narrative
in the west...
                        i was just listening to a nationalist
greg johnson... and let's face it:
how did nationalism become so reasonable?
        or what do you say to nationalists who
have to face up to darwinistic populists that are
secretly communist?
                        i find darwinism not so much a case
against god, but against the left...
                    maybe i'm seeing double or something...
anyway... if i was writing this in central europe ("east"
europe... left right of centre argument?
  copernicus didn't really improve our map-reading
skills... more people find the edge of a cliff
or a sea than... the ******* x: that marks the spot)...
           so we're supposed to be objective,
        and by object i mean an ethnic context:
     which bites back at what those who argue against
subjectivity have: how am i to suddenly turn into shadow
of some obscene universalism?
       well, judging by the content i'm being "prescribed"
(just listening to), and given darwinism, when doesn't
brutality (at least intellectual) come into the fore?
           arguments in a graveyard phase?
                                     epitaph managment?
but since i'm writing this in england, and seeing what's
unfolding, or what's already too late to comment on
as it already has...
    politico-ethnicity speaking? as an anglo-slav?
        there is a dual deterrent in "certain" parts of central
europe... some say the weather, some say:
  the people who inherited the remnants of national
socialism's nadir... we know national socialism's
zenith was the autobahn... so if the british proclaim
pride at the railway network, the germans can't
proclaim a pride in the autobahn network?
                     well... if you've ever been in the central
of warsaw during the winter, you know climate is a natural
deterrant to what the problems in western europe
are spoken about...
                        giving the current climate of politics,
i can't say that sites such as auschwitz are also deterrents...
    i'm guessing people over there (as earth to earthenware
be spoken) - perhaps half-jokingly:
                                        you want us to fire up
the furnaces? no, but the Ełk example...
                         do i really have to state that darwinism is
an ideology in direct confrontation with marxism?
                 i hear things like cultural marxism...
        but what the west has started to export is
                                                 cultural darwinism...
it's a seesaw effect, a stick has two ends...
                                           i don't even know how to
begin entertaining the effects of cultural darwinism,
unless of course there's overt psychologism
                              and too many explanations and
very little action: it's like this ******, completely ******
off his face on l.s.d. looking at a painting saying:
    oh, isn't that nice?
                                    cultural darwinism is real,
and it lies opposite cultural marxism; i really don't know
how it happened, by darwinism is political these days
(as it always was, with the monkey trial...
  but then that was in the realm of law, rather than politico
blah blah)... in that sense it has become almost ineffective
in convincing people anew, afresh, precisely because
it has turned from a very beautiful theory,
                     into the harsh reality of indoctrination;
i really hid that part where i mentioned auschwitz as
a deterrent to the migrant problem, didn't i?
                  i'll write a bit more and it will truly be well
hidden... o fortuna... und die shattenvolk:
                      it's not even a belief, you just read western
media, and it's as if poland was one defended by
western europe, by not receiving pointless coverage;
       within reasonable constraints, this new alliance
within the european union?
                           i'm thinking whether it's real or not;
never mind... i'm still to depict su doku tactics
            and actually finish a puzzle that i ensured
could be turned into ideograms... which by japanese
standards of complexity, would be treated
   as if neanderthal... all we have in terms of complexity
is volume... since almost anyone can and anyone
has learned english... it's naked... ****-naked adam,
the oddball of all other european languages...
             primarily due to a lack of unitary distinctions...
and this point has to be repeated repeated re-.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
with natives, you emigrate you're an expat, but if you immigrate you'll hardly find a good word to replace expat - well, i have one... inpat - people speak fondly of expats, that heroism of the English having tea with Mussolini... ever hear the self-told story on inpats? you hardly do, all you know is that the first generation wants bleach, bad, so the next generation can say: british born, british bred, and dumb-fool the question of accents.*

it all started with everyone trying to be a social media guru -
a blatant jinx, only a few "chosen" ones could become
brand machines that could become
living embodiment(s) of advertising plateaus,
who'd sing you a song from an advert than
a Hey Joe by Hendrix or Hey Jude by the
Beatles, only a select few - and there they
are, moaning about a pristine benefit system
to raise their families of about 15 while
the cockroach professions in factories go
unnoticed - well, sorry for turning poetry
into politics, but if i won't, no one else will,
they'll be gagging each other anally with other
"essentials", about love come and love missed -
poetry is an abstract canvas, it allows
anyone to narrate or to personify, it basically
allows narration like no other medium -
politicising in the poetic realm isn't bad,
Ezra has hamstrung and quartered last time i heard,
spent a good deal in an asylum trying to prove
that a patriotic flame was instilled in him -
i don't do dust on a cupboard shelf love ****,
i don't do "you better watch your vocabulary"
nonsense, it's, non-, essential, justifiably missed
or unattainable, yes, but essential? not really.
you can practice on a mannequin,
but on an organic free-wheeler? not really.
along with the angst and along with the mishaps,
learn to walk, style it, stride... **** sake's
try imitating the bowling approach in an alley
with a kingpin and 10 dumb ***** -
the more you see cursing the less the images become,
i swear to god, i'd rather see a throng of a 100 men
cursing without censorship than see all the devastation
from mindless and sexless acts to claim
a supremacy of power - i'd see less dyslexics too!
tell them you want to spell, tell them you
want to get back the U and C back rather than see
a **** pushed through a tennis-net chequers flag
while some poor-**** goody-two-shoes gets decapitated
in Iraq... please! this is becoming a sadomasochism
for me stressing the point!
Joshua Haines Jan 2018
These hearts have become racist
What used to be kind
And all hope to be seen
is wasted
On the stampeding blind

These teeth have become stained
What used to be white
Has been darkened by the
viscera of
those consumed by the night

These hands have become destroyers
Fingers that once saved
Equal and human;
Clean or depraved

These hands have become destroyers
I feel you chewing the limb that
used to be there
Your skin is under my nails
You're burning my fingertips
And pulling my teeth

You strangle me deep
among the sea of leaves
Flashing advertisements
in my eyes, Listening to
my every word. You tell
me I'm sacrificing for the
greater good. But I feel
submissive. I feel hateful.

You say Eve is the reason
for the downfall of mankind.
She is nothing but of rib and
even bone cracks. Saying this
as you dislodge my jawbone.
I try to argue with you, but
my language is gone.

You say that a dog is harmless
if surrounded by fence. That the
owner of the dog should pay for
the fence. That the ***** could ****
or produce pups that would ****.
I am still without words and losing
copious amounts of blood.

I am poor and no-one will acknowledge
my death. I am someone people will
forget died and will have to be reminded
years from now, during a cook-out or
amateur bowling tournament. My legacy
is that of failure and being obliterated,
justifiably so.

These people look to money,
to colors on fabric idols,
to pages in a book written by
share-croppers afraid of flooding.

Remove me, so, to remember me
for what potential may have existed.
Kindly ignore that I never resisted,
and that I, the apex of forevers, was
always ungrateful. That I conformed
and became deeply hateful.
Bailey Aug 2016
Always there for the
Beeb she cares for,
Coolcatcoolio and
**** well said so's.
Everyone stops to stare,
For she always walks and talks with flare.
Giant heart keeps her awake,
Holds on tight to loves she makes.
Insightful and delightful,
Justifiably spiteful.
Kinda naïve--
(Less than hard to believe).
Mean to no one but,
No one knows that much.
Only I know this trait,
People don't stick around and wait.
Quite a classy looking dork, with
Sarcasm galore.
Tingly feelings she gives
Underneath my skin.
Very nostalgic
With every moment.
eXciting and fun,
You know she's the one.
Zany and brainy and bright as the sun.

This is her,
to me.
Timothy Roesch Jan 2014
They are not children long less we, mistaken,
view their charms as something taken,
something ‘stolen’ from their innocence
which is nothing real and only hints
at our guilt and crying shame
which looks eager for others to blame
for the simple march of time and tide
at whose foot we all will abide.

Look to the corpse-like living
who, to youth, are always giving
the presumption of an end justifiably reached.
        When youth is nothing but a far, thin beach
landed upon; afoot or on the roll.
Landing half dead or hale and whole.

Beware the Siren song of youth;
the false virginity, the baby’s tooth
for it is not the child, we have been,
that is the gift of original sin.

‘Cute’ is not a place to stay.
Beautiful is best beheld from far away.
We are the road that leads us on.
We are the sunset that precedes the dawn.

We are not born to stay the child
Youth is for the forever beguiled.
Shrinking Violet Feb 2015
So i tried to be Snow White
And did the whole pin-up girl look
Red lips, black hair, white skin.
then I joined a website
and learnt how to cook
and how to wield a rolling pin.
Then I sat and waited for a charming prince
who never came.
So I got up and made an apple pie
and lo seven guys turned up in a pinch
but most of them were really lame
and short and they didn't like the pie. I cried.
I threw the pie into the trash
where the rats choked on the apples
and waited for their own true love's kiss.

(But then I needn't have worried about making a hash
of things because later on the steps of an abandoned chapel,
The Anti-Pest Society gave me an award for getting rid of all the rats
and that's how I got work as an exterminator -which I am justifiably proud of and good at-
So hasta la vista baby, I'll be back.)
Very quite different from the previous one on romance. Ha.
Colin E Havard Mar 2014
A Game of superior gametes,
My 46ers in the race to conceive
A business/economic Theory of Warfare
To guarantee/certify myn own survival
For my 23ers --> The Olympic Swimmers!
If the potentiality of Life in the Multi-verse
Is obviously a sure thing,
Then it's Intelligent Life-forms
That are the abnormally; an abomination
To an empty Entity interested only in
Inflicting pain and suffering and misery to the Masses;
Perhaps justifiably, perhaps not...who cares?
It's not Nature's way --> She is indifferent,
But not unaware of One species
Destroying essential habitat for no lasting reward.
She is here now - be careful! We need
To re:think our primary endeavours;
Let's try to ameliorate the damage;
Conserve what little's left whilst
Not foreclosing the whole kit and caboodle:
Sustainable resourcing without guilt.
A Quadruple bottom line, with a different foci -->
People and Environment over Time and Wherewithal.
23/2/2014
Devil's Advocate, Day 8, Concord Mental Health Centre
Helen Nov 2013
not so
without sound
there is a heartbeat
a gentle sniff
a scream
a hauntingly beautiful
song
a voice carrying
a burden
a body bent
standing strong
an unhappy heart
that bleeds
upon paradise
rearranging
circumstance
to justifiably
and painfully
try to arguably
lay down beside
What Is Wrong

We tend to lick our wounds
in the quiet of the night
when we think others
are sleeping
We stay awake
to protect them
from our own fright

We sit beneath one sided glass
so we can't see our own
reflection
and pretend we care so deep
as we are buried
beneath our defection

In the quiet
without the light
shining on our
imperfection
Gold and Silver
have no worth
as dull as Copper
and Nickel
ten times less
Precious
infinitely more
worth
than the babble of
the day to day
that's infects my ears
In the quiet
of the night
your precious voice
rises
The only song
my heart hears
Raj Arumugam Dec 2012
The crowd has waited since 5 am
there’s been much talk
about the discounts at 8.30
So there’s the long queue and this man
comes right up to the front
and the outraged crowd punch him, push him
and kick him back in line
but the impertinent man gets up
and walks again to the front of the queue
and the justifiably angry crowd
punch him, push him
and kick him back in line
but the determined man gets up
like Rocky
and walks again to the front of the queue
and again the no-nonsense crowd
punch him, push him
and kick him back in line
but the obstinate man gets up yet again
and he mumbles, like Rocky:
*“If these idiots hit me again, I’ll not open the store for 'em!”
a poem to celebrate the silly season...poem based on an existing online joke...
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2016
i never understood why people have to treat all
writing as raw: crude oil, for example,
and never the refined product -
far from championing several books,
i like the pendulum of power having read them
reside with me, like any literary critic:
who primarily dissuades someone from
grabbing the ******* / reins, as it were -
there's a problem, but thinking about it
gives no solution, because, as most people realise
that thinking is, essentially, a luxury,
a comfort zone, mostly eradicated by
quasi-Buddhism of the west: mindfulness,
tech detox, you name it... i treat thinking
like i might do sitting on a sofa - it's not that
we're not thinking, it's the notion that thinking
somehow solves all the awkward verb ventures
by primarily being occupied with nouns -
apparently no one has heard of day-dreaming
and said: thinking coagulates all the cognitive
faculties together, and if you can escape daydreaming
Freud will catch you - thus said:
never trust an Egyptian with a triangle and a square...
bad move... you have to realise the audaciousness
of man to bring forth a wrath of that magnitude
that you end up either lying about it,
putting on the glove of Coptic Christianity and
later Islam... or accepting it as, well: given
the timescale and 24 hour north east west south
relevance of being hooked like on ******
the back-burner (sort of speak) and imitate
******* strokes standing-up beside the wailing wall...
   usher in the time-bomb - spatially we're
used to the hydrogen mushroom, now the advent
of the time-bomb of ageing Japan and ****-soaked
Brits gagging for some humanity -
             as of now, the state robs... it doesn't provide,
it robs.
              there are problems and i have no solution,
the **** it attitude works, if your hero is
some *** by the name of Diogenes:
                oddly enough the Nazarene did nothing
spectacular - this Greek *** was bothered by
fashionable ladies sitting in his kennel urn with dogs,
that Jewish guy? a *** that bothers others,
well... wayward fro, toward'e Golgotha -
or how English was written ridiculously without
diacritic marks, perpetuated, oddly enough,
by trademark grammaclasm (oh sure,
they still bend their knees at the sight of an icon,
sharing indulgence with the cardinals accordingly
in Russian, rev. simony and i too think
Ezra was justifiably a grand economist at heart) -
i just don't understand how people expect
all written material to be based upon easy arithmetic,
there's more arithmetic involved in putting
a      r     i     θ      m     e       t      i      c
together than it is putting
1     18    9     6    13      5      20    9      3
and he ****** them for gematria -
oddly a ridiculous gematria result, let's say
$6,000,000,000 doesn't translate as Napoleon,
a rich chum of a chimp cross-dressing in a shopping-mall...
so they should have been looking at grammar
than inventing this "magic" calculator -
anything to do with the above in bold?
   both θ (theta)    and φ (phi) have the numerical
value of 6 - using the PLAIN LATIN TEXT.
anyone can reach up to this level of bog stench -
          what, the, hell, is, going, on?!
oh, i assure you, i'm actually aware of myself
writing this, i'm not that (much) hooked on the topic,
i can retract and tell you: just a passing fancy -
topically a rainbow, silver for the magpie's jealousy,
the myth goes: magpies are the werewolves of the sky,
although they ****** a greedy glee sparkle at
a silver spoon: i might as well have written
a Persian proverb having written that...
with me there this... as already written,
and a whiskey sharpshooter and creedence clearwater
revival... i'm not bothered about someone claiming
this to be theirs... all i see is puppet strings attached
to their tongues... waggle waggle yeah,
       waggle waggle blah...
                                               lies have short legs,
or let's say: stumps for legs...
                                                   lying
is the moral equivalent of dwarfism - short
tempered asking(s) for wants of similar literary
gifts / curses - assuredly - i don't know why people
want most of anyone's writing output to not lick
something akin to J. Joyce's Finnegans Wake -
and not expect someone having read such a feast
to not feel inclined to remember it, in turn,
by fleeing from conventional blockbuster
ex narrator - i wasn't even planning to write
a self-help book, or instruction manuals for Ikea
to assemble a table... you got the map,
but you don't have a compass... well... better sit it out
till sunset to know where the west is...
                          any help from Copernican imagery,
         i wouldn't expect... having an image of
our gentle blue orb will not save you from the 2 dimensional
representation of where you need to go;
conclusively? con ex narrator? ex personae: thespian
                                                                         dabbling.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2015
if it’s so successful why so much apathy surrounding the justifiably argued vote? is it the bureaucratic 110m with obstacles and hefty organisers of a to b and b to a pink on yellow paper with or without folding or licking a stamp as a dire requirement of a pension in conservative congratulatory applause aided by a flying red carpet that simply spells out: career? we all love the new zealander rugby haka - there’s no democracy in that! it’s a triangle!*

as my grandmother and grandfather said
and i swear it with an oath of death
to give flowers to an american girl:
a. girls will weep... but that’s a girl’s point of view
second....
b. keep you heart small, small enough
to construct nations into agglomerates of empires.
and hence little augustus arose from the people,
since the people felt indulged into being apathetic concerning democracy,
in the numerous they vetoed instead of voted,
and so their party officiate ransacked the crowds into a singular voice, his own,
and disposed of the people like a whirlwind of communist protesters
not willing to assassinate.
cowardly essentials were provided for the toothless lion,
who slurped the meat up like a fly,
and i watched, and watched, while tourist professionals dittoed,
while the belittled men asked men of sheered honour for a judge and jury,
i watched, i watched dearly for my life be spared:
i watched democracy walk in protest to get no sparing or guarantee or success,
i watched it march and watched it fail,
but at the same time i watched no wise man emerge from the tilling of shrunken heads,
so the jokes of aged erections aren’t true?
well that makes up one republic less of what encompasses a democracy
of a single vote.
i watched democracy plagiarise itself into apostasy - but not criminalisation
in secular terms like in the leftist tongue of someone who votes but is taken
in vanus - regression i say! democracy failed a long time ago,
now i’m holding democracy’s economics in a stranglehold to ******* cut off
operas for a point of castrato argued: spoon the moon and dance on water!
i did watch it decide upon a deathbed of the march how the old died with thought of
youth, how eager horned socrates allowed it, how the young then feared
and were unable to cajole with age a mirroring effect to think that too -
having to eat the scribbles of once firm architectures and *** **** a nuance of
the bean turned into a balloon or kidney!
yes, i watched democracy crumble, and i watched it with good stead,
i saw “democracy” craft a war against its people wish,
i watched “democracy” hide the french & russian revolution and the english one,
i saw democracy institutionalise poets as academic byproducts of semantic dirges
concerning life rather than death -
i saw it crumble with syria, and i applauded with alexander’s libido hushed into monogamy,
and since then i have aged, vetoed rather than voted, and articulated
what was to become the segregation of scot from brit looking at two pence worth’s of copper.
Michael Shepherd Jan 2014
36
I want his forehead to be veined-
to conform physically with the
way I think a bad person
is contorted. But it isn’t.

I have no feature to latch onto,
no blood-filled flaw from which
to justifiably leech my hatred.
Unreal Society Sep 2015
How come we fight for our country and put our lives on the line, for a corrupt political system and officials that lie.

We fight overseas for our freedom, and we do so with honor. Yet how can we be free, when our government is secretly keeping all of its citizens monitored. Its no secret Americas broke, so its a joke that we still spend, billions of dollars a year on our nations defense.

I guess when your obsession is power, the best direction is war. When were face to face with recession, how can we justifiably spend more.

We stand by our leaders. We expect their actions to  honor there name. Only to be left with corporate corruption, financed for political gain. Now a days the word justice, fails to hold its function. When big business contributions, purchase the people that govern us.

So how do you tell the people, that our debit is so vast. That our currency is becoming worthless, without panicking the mass.

By consistently creating conflicts, that create a flow of cash.
This is how it all works, with the current system in play. The poor go to a war, that the the middle class pays, the people in power see a profit, and the soldiers feel the pain.
Poem By:KLOYAL Est-8-2015
Nat Lipstadt Dec 2020
~for those who can’t sleep, and know why~

you say “how much is too far?” and I think yes, more scars,
a man surveys a lifetime of errors and cowardice,
my soles, scarred from nite-walking new york city sidewalks,
days of haven’t slept in years, weakness is my prejudice,
tally sums-ups as no forgiveness, the pavement paying is a
continuum of  paying on, there is no atonement for wasted life,
the concrete cracks wedded to my body, stepped on each one


marvel at the disastrous disappointment that I’ve engineered,
how creative in disguising a life of accumulated self bruising,
applaud my season’s greeting card, 2020, me meeting me,
in a laptop I am contained, global boundaries thus defined,
crumpled coffee cups, emptied wine glass, zoom loops of repetition,
still I wonder why, every day, how, so many missteps, wondering
not at the lackluster will that carried me;  every minute sorrowful


so much hidden begs for revelation, murdered souls, theft, jealousy,
but the punishment is brutal; a conscientious conscience continually
punishes my blackened hours and there is no retrieval, retrial,
just a grounded plot with neither headstone and grass,
for I’m marked by no marker, and the wounds inflicted are my
afflicted leavings, my bones+soul confined, and the hallelujah
word excised from my vocabulary, forbidden me, justifiably so






————————————-

Mr. Tambourine Man
Song by Bob Dylan

“Though I know that evening's empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand, but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me,
I'm branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming...

And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted frightened trees
Out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate
Driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow”
4:32 AM Sat Dec 5 2020
Stanley crawled along the shore
Holding the ocean in his hand
Bearing the words "Nevermore"
He was quite justifiably mad.

He had without, a coin to his name.
Nor the age of someone wiser.
Stanely, without thinking met a dame.
Who shared his love of a ****** writer.

I refrain from telling you so thusly.
But I authored this text thinking of me.
In my room, on a bed.
Too bad no one likes reading about poor people.

Stanelys dame had given him hope.
And tore it slowly without a sound.
Crushing, to his very soul.
He refused to swim, preferring to drown.

But I dare not say where stanely ends.
Or where his story dared to lead.
He did not drown within those depths.
How poetic that must have been.

Stanely looked upon the beach.
Feeling four winds at his heels.
His writers note had overreached.
And stanely cried, forgetting that girl.
I'd prefer dark comedy writing.
preemptive militance of white America
paranoid and armed to the gold teeth
bombing with nuclear bombs as revenge
bombing around the world
just in case
what if black America was this preemptive
this militantly hyper vigilant
after facing the whiteness of extermination
for such a long time
perhaps black America
might want the government
to use some of the hard earned
tax money
military expertise
impunity
to eradicate
racist white terrorists in America
at all levels of society
like what happened to MOVE
to John Africa
the babies the children
in Philadelphia may 13 1985
the fed bombs from the state helicopter
whiteness on a paranoid
preemptive genocidal mission of impunity
on camera
the paranoia black America should have
justifiably so
not to blame
America should surrender to the preemptive desire
of black America to not be enslaved or killed
upholding the basic freedom
In America
save your tax money
for domestic peace
We suffer at our sense of loss,
we are frightened by the rage,
we are guilty in the face of rejection,
we are hurt by choice of isolation
and we are confused by the message.
We give in
We give up
We start to slip, but the noose holds us back
We are wrong, yet justifiably right
We’re scared no one cared
Did they really ever care?
Whats the point? who am I? why am I? what am i?
So scared to lose yet too shy to succeed
The fear of fear always left me scared
Nothing more nothing less,
The significance of others
makes me feel significantly less significant
than the insignificant others
fight wars for freedom
enslaved in our minds from the battles
the torture, the evil
the only death known is violent, yet suicide seems so peaceful.
George Krokos Sep 2012
What news have you brought me of the beloved?
The anxiety of my heart is so very great in there.
I no longer at all can keep my feelings covered
and the stirrings of my heart are about to flare.

The masked expression on your face seems uncertain
but the light from your eyes shines with a story to tell.
Let’s sit down together and draw around us a curtain
so that the flames of longing we will be able to quell.

If I seem to be somewhat impatient it’s justifiably so
the anguish in my heart is almost too strong to bear,
as news of the beloved is all that I really care to know
don’t hesitate any more now and those moments spare.

Although you look a little tired from the long distance traveled
there’ll be some unfinished business between yourself and me;
unless I hear a few words all my trepidation won’t be unraveled
and the pain in my heart will become unbearable for you to see.

You now must know how I feel and all the reasons behind
so please tell me everything to help ease my heart and mind.
Start at the very beginning and continue right up to the end
I’ll be listening with expectation and to your words attend.
________________
Private Collection - written about 2 years ago.
Relationships.
They seem to be the basis of all human activity.
If you're not actively looking for a partner in life then you're bettering yourself so that you will be more attractive to those potential partners.
Some of us are so desperate for companionship that we refuse to leave our partners, even if they are doing more harm than good. Domestic violence is becoming more and more relevant, adultery is the most common cause of relationship failure, and soon the generation that speaks of " 60 years of marriage" will have died off.
But what happens when there's no substantial reason to leave a relationship? You're not being abused, he buys you flowers, he would not dare to ever cheat on you, and he loves you with all of his heart. He would do anything for the relationship to work. He wants to get married some day, have babies, and live happily ever after. All the while you're wondering if an opportunity to get out with good cause will ever present itself. You find yourself praying that he'll ***** up bad enough so that you can justifiably cut the cord on the whole thing. You are unhappy, but you're not sure whether it's because you're bored or you've actually fallen completely out of love. You've stopped seeing this person as part of your future and just as an annoying part of the present. You're afraid that you will never have the courage to get out of the relationship, and the longer you wait, the more it is going to hurt when it happens. But if you don't do it you're going to be stuck with a person that makes you miserable for the rest of your life. If you wait too long, then you will have wasted the years of your youth on someone that you don't even love. You know that it's the right decision but there's a nagging voice in the back of your head telling you that you'll never meet someone who treats you as well as they do, that you'll regret your decision and most of all, you are scared to be alone....
And then there's the ignorant talk of "nice guys finish last" and you do not want to be a part of that stereotype, but that's exactly what it's going to look like. The honest truth is not that you've drifted away because he's a nice guy. You've drifted away because he's not the guy for you. You still want a guy that will buy you flowers and love you with all his heart. You don't want to be with a ****. But you don't want him to be jealous, space- invading, time-*******, over-reacting, clingy, immature, or shallow either.

But you've been hurt so many times, and right now, you're safe.
You don't have to worry about being alone, cheated on, or abused and it's a wonderful thing to have.
But is it worth it?
This is not a poem. This is something I've been struggling with for about 6 months now. Please leave comments if you have any advice, opinions, or similar situations . It is always good to hear from people who understand what you're going through.
Delta Swingline Jun 2017
I've run away before.
Not for an overly good reason.
But because I didn't know what else to do.

I had no ID, no licence, no accessories.
Nothing that could possibly describe who I am or what I've done.

So I ran.
I went to the end of the block and turned right...
And the right again.
And again.

I ran around a block, but still ran in a circle.

Back to where I started.

My mouth dry, legs weak, heavily breathing and sweating out the 15th fever this week, and it's scary to not have a justifiably good reason to be here or to run off.

I want to scream until singing is a lost memory but I would not do that here. Not when I still have enough energy to cry.

And I do cry.
More than I should.
More than anyone should ever have to.

Running in the middle of the street not even close to being scared of the cars speeding down the pavement.

And yet, there are no cars on the road.
Open.
Empty.
Nothing.

I do want to disappear sometimes.
But I wouldn't do that now.
My suffering is already a public hanging nobody watches.

I ran away.

And I would run out of the city and never return.

The only problem is...

The only place I was ever taught to run to...

Was home.

And even that doesn't seem to exist anymore.

So where can I go?
Running is all I know how to do right about now.
(alternately titled random axe of violence)

I calculated an average
of ~10.16.... deaths per year
of mass school shootings since Columbine,
a morbid benchmark where,

iGen / Gen Z 1995 - 2012 bore significant hit,
now students require armed guards to learn - veer
really within purportedly "safe places",
which statistics tracks a unilinear

trend, and justifiably causing
absolute zero reassurance
countering alarmist state of mind dust tear
ability to accept rationale

dismissing greater probability
prevails lightening will strike loved ones,
nonetheless share
ring understandable expressing

rightful salient concerns with school board
quotidian possibility son(s) and/or daughter(s) rare
lee remain mum at every opportunity,
how second amendment does not square

with democratic e pluribus unum firmament,
lieutenant management,
quintessential reverent tenets
pointing trigger finger of accountability

at lax gun purchasing rare
lee does emotional uproar demanding
immediate controls, limitations, restrictions,
et cetera on firearms scare

the bejesus from stalwart National Rifle Association,
whence spokesperson doth prepare
convincing rebuttal (lock, stock at barrel) overbear
ring lee outgun legitimate

parental concerns, now near
daily occurrence hardly cause a flinch glossed
inducing similar reactions as
sports home team defeated, sans mere

slightly raised eyebrows while headline news
when another tragedy gets tacked
unto the 122 students killed since Columbine
took  innocent lives 19 plus years ago

which ** hum sacrifice of youth or teachers bare
lee induce ripple despite an increasing number
of spent bullets fallout inflicting
more than 208,000 vulnerable
impressionable psyches sorrows need a lifetime to air!
among the countless thugs
   that teased and taunted myself as a boy
who exhibited blatant characteristics
   of being painfully shy and coy
attempting to remain like a statue as a decoy
which tactic nada successful employ

but only incensed and beckoned
   like tasty morsel chronic unpleasant bait
to be pitted with words
   always feeling like an outcast
   (of poker flats) without a date
populating school memories
   of loathsomeness and hate

serving as token punching bag
   nearly the duration every year
of public school, which vicious name calling
   assaults upon me psyche did wear
away negligible self confidence,

   or internal rage that found instinct to veer
away from approaching fist,
   which knuckle sandwich from tier
of hooligans gave no surcease

   to knock this then introvert
   on his head or scrawny rear
a lonely lad bereft of any buddy
   to stand close as bona a fide genuine peer,

nothing but dark shadow
   casting silhouette
   per edge of night always near
one brazen dude named Lloyd Lavinsky

   hovered ever near
especially during recess
   at Audubon Elementary School
   he did chase and lear
encouraging mob fiends

   to join in an additionally mock and jeer
which unprintable epithets,
   I can still faintly hear
in tandem with that native animal fear

that found this then
   socially withdrawn second grader a targeted deer
caught in cross hairs of boys
   who seemed like giants
   and fierce some as a bear
clawing at a scared little boy
   plus hurtful words thru the air

which cruel barbs hurled lent convenience
   for me who stood stock still or crouched down
on ground intimating passivity
   and inferiority brought grimace and frown

to those who mimicked flaws,
   aside from being shriveled flower on lawn
included nasal twang
   from submucous cleft palate
   defect that did spawn

speech impediment and obvious magnet
   for brutal beast
to relish, savor and feast
hoping to bring me to tears at the least

knowing this human docile scared dog
   would not fight back
fearing he might get beat
   to a ****** pulp for justifiably flack

even my late mother also told me
   to give brats a “what for”
   with two ****** pack
that triceratops nasty gang

   bulging biceps they did pack
who to this very day I bristle to smack
with an ole mighty whack
as if strength within transferred
   to computer Goliath body guard
   manufactured by Univac.
---------------------------------------
postscript:

alth­ough just a infinitesimal dot
moxie this mortal doth got
in the cosmic skein since big bang hot
test event since white bread -

   gives m t calories a lot
soak up syrup from chicken soup
   from sterling gold chamber ***
strongly suggested by a tweeting scott.
Samm Marie Aug 2016
Adorably gagworthy
Because nothing is worse than
Cutesy talking over each other to
Depict your date of face battles
Extended past curfew and
Frightened of losing the other
Granted neither is going anywhere
Heaven made match through twists of fate
Integrating both into my
Justifiably insane life
Keeping me on my tip toes
Leaping forward to catch them both before they
Meet the hellhole of
Never ending fear that
Openly acts as a factor of the
Purity and
Quite
Raucous realness of their
Story book love tale
Tracing the pathways paved by
Unanimously loved romantic comedies
Verifying the necessity of this
Wacky wubulous
Xenial relationship that has been
Years in the making and will stand longer than
Zion
Skye Applebome May 2013
Music is beautiful.

Music unites so many people, it can also define them.

Music is another universal language.

Music is perfect.

Music has so many different categories. One for everyone.

Music as a whole cannot be justifiably hated.

Music is the reason why some people are still with us.

Music is infinite.

Music is food for the soul.

Music is everything, and yet it is so little.

Music is just notes arranged in an order.

But the order is beautiful.

And, just like a circle (of fifths), we're back to the beginning; music is beautiful.
:D
Timothy Roesch Feb 2014
They are not children long less we, mistaken,
view their charms as something taken,
something ‘stolen’ from their innocence
which is nothing real and only hints
at our guilt and crying shame
which looks eager for others to blame
for the simple march of time and tide
at whose foot we all will abide.

Look to the corpse-like living
who, to youth, are always giving
the presumption of an end justifiably reached.
When youth is nothing but a far, thin beach
landed upon; afoot or on the roll.
Landing half dead or hale and whole.

Beware the Siren song of youth;
the false virginity, the baby’s tooth
for it is not the child, we have been,
that is the gift of original sin.

‘Cute’ is not a place to stay.
Beautiful is best beheld from far away.
We are the road that leads us on.
We are the sunset that precedes the dawn.

We are not born to stay the child
Youth is for the forever beguiled.
George Krokos Jan 2020
Sometimes if we carefully observe what's going on in our life
we may notice a principle or system operating that is rife;
punishment and reward is that which seems to be going on
even though certain elements of it may be justifiably wrong.
It resembles the broader principle known as the Law of Karma
wherein or by which one can reap what they sow like a farmer.

The implications of this are taken advantage of by those who
wish to impose their own idea of justice or vengeance onto
anyone that goes against or crosses a certain line of their sphere
where they hold influence and consider it to be some place dear.
In many situations though the main reason is that out of jealousy
which prompts one with a warped mind to do an act of treachery.
_______
Written in 2018
What if children are actually the wisest beings on the planet?

And the state in which we call "the development period" before they learn to talk is when they are trying their best to convey all of the secrets of life and death to you?

All children can justifiably do this because their "innocence" as we perceive it is actually the profound wisdom to come of living an entire lifetime that still exists within them. Hence, they have left the troubles of this world behind and still remember passing images and details of what happens after this.

When they figure out they can't actually speak to you for some reason, they then begin to act in the most candid manner to demonstrate their knowledge. And because perhaps, you too have experienced another life or even multiple lives before the one that you're living, you catch on to bits and pieces of what they are demonstrating and appreciate that.

Then, since these little ethereal beings are learning to be human again and you're the first people they meet and spend the most time with, they want to identify with you.

So the beginnings of what we call "personality" are really just the congenial memories to the secrets of the universe shared between parents and children. And eventually, the child grows up and.forgets all their secrets, only to remember them as they live life once again. There's gotta be something to that adage where people refer to the elderly reverting back to their childlike selves, after all!
Inspired by the purity and innocence of a child who could not speak trying to get her mother to dance and play at the Barber shop
sinister concatenation pairs us
   with surreal morgue aisle
broken lives rent asunder
   from fanatics hell bent with bile
of poison spewing forth *******
   up the moral compass dial

upending amity, comity,
excitability with ferocity,
hostility, indelibly, indubitably,
inexorably hissing illogic jabber
wocky justifiably linking extremist
deadly credos bred among western nations

indicting pursuit of life, liberty
and happiness wreaking deliberate havoc
   awash with crimson tide of blood –
   dead set to jam the life lock

viz Leviathan of personal freedoms
   bespoken via vernacular,
where secular westerners
   framed to mock,

where extremist storied devout
   die hard believers dislike rock
and roll of altruism, capitalism,
   liberalism, thus apply shell shock
tactics sans terroristic tactics
   with bombs silently tick tock

inevitably heightening security
   forcing ordinary citizens
   to be on high alert
watchful even at slightest com
   ment, perhaps even accidental curt

commentary invoking immediate
   military forces swoop down and exert
overpowering force donned
   with ammunition belt bristling girt
affecting innocence abroad and
   native population to freeze
   and become inert

casting dark silhouettes against
   autumnal reign of light
where Mithraism plays out
   with immensely brutal might
blotting out the radiance

   of heavenly bliss affording active night
life to become shuttered
   as cruel carnival masquerade
   pits pagan plight

against the jagged
   scrimmage line quite
arbitrarily drawn by maniacal foes
   for freedom trammel the right
to own democratic stance –

   for Jihadist Johnny come lately
   find a slight
lampooned their sacred
   Islamic catechism inducing tight
grip on Allah to fuel vengeance
   for intimated transgressions
   that doth in vite

which violent polemics purpose
   fully shear the very fiber of peace
pronounced with especial
   arduousness come holiday time
   foisting a crease

along the fabric of westernization –
   whereby founding fathers did grease
the figurative wheels of con
   com it ant moist meaty lifestyle
to experience strangulation
   from an invisible death knell lease.
The young man killed because he had no other options
He killed out of no other recourse !
He will have to **** again if we refuse to understand-
his plight or cast quick racially motivated separation .. Render quick judgements devoid of his painful circumstances
It could happen at any time ..
How can you look into the madness-
of our cities and wonder why
Can the man justifiably **** the murderer ?
Copyright April 5 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved

** I'm not proclaiming that we open the jails and release everyone .. I'm saying that we will never extinguish the fire with gasoline , no matter how hard government keeps trying .. Parenting ! Parenting ! Parenting !
Jake Devlin Mar 2023
It is devastating to think
That after our first date
I thought to myself
That you would be the one
Who I'd fight the world for
Your smile, your laugh
Your patience, your kindness
How your eyes so softly met mine
How easily our fingers seemed to intertwine
And like a complete juvenile
Soaked ear to ear in naivety
I fell so ******* quickly
I loved every inch of you
I wanted to show you off to the world
The very same one
That you did your best to hide me from
Now here again, justifiably at the brink
It is time I love every inch of me

— The End —